


In a Rut

by KAL (JadeElite)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Breeding, F/M, Mastrabation, Mating, Meaningless Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 10:24:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16157123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeElite/pseuds/KAL
Summary: Since coming to Alexandria, Daryl has taken on a habit he's not quite proud of. One of the young woman has caught his eye in a way that causes uncontrollable lust, and a need to do something he can't imagine doing in this state of the world. Unbeknownst to him, the girl has similar thoughts about Daryl. What they do in privacy is rather embarrassing, and would be even more so if they were to learn about the other doing so.





	In a Rut

Daryl freezes mid-sentence, eyes locking onto a figure passing behind Carol. A woman he barely knows, but since arriving in Alexandria each time he lays eyes on her, something strange takes hold of him. An overwhelming natural urge, one he hasn't felt in a long time, never this strongly, and not like this. She's wearing those shorts again, he can't blame her with how hot it's been, but it's not fair to him.  
"Earth to Dixon!" Carol frowns. "Cat got your tongue?" She follows Daryl's gaze, neck twisting to look over her shoulder. "Or something else…?"  
"Naw… jus' lost my… train of… thought." Daryl can't take his eyes off her, the swing of her hips as she takes long strides. An idea of himself gripping those hips, fingers digging into the flesh.  
"Indecent…" Carol mutters, forehead creasing. "Girl shouldn't be walking around like that; she's practically naked."  
"If Daryl weren't staring you wouldn't have a problem with it." Michonne laughs. "You don't say nothin' when Rosita goes around dressed like that."  
"Anyways, it's hot as hell; I'd be wearing that if I thought I could pull it off." Rick can't help watching the girl walk until Michonne clears her throat and looks down at his boots.  
Daryl watches her all the way up till she rounds a corner and disappears behind one of the picturesque white houses. By the time she's gone, he's got a very clear image in his head of the girl lying naked before him, whimpering and moaning his name. Begging Daryl to fill her up with his seed. There's the crux of the problem with his fixation, his desperate, primal need to…  
"Daryl… you going to be alright hun?" Carol snaps him back to reality.  
Daryl looks over at Carol once more, trying to pretend he wasn't thinking about… "I'm fine, just remembered I've got somethin' I need to take care of."  
"Right, good luck with that." Michonee is trying so hard not to laugh.  
Daryl side-eyes her before turning towards the gates.

\---

It's so hot. All day you've been trying to cool off. Sitting in the shade is about the best you can do, which wasn't exactly possible while you've been on wall duty. As you watched for walkers of anybody unsavory you could feel every drop of sweat rolling down your forehead, back, between your breasts. Even your thighs aren't immune to the heat; crotch sweat soaks your underwear, drips down past your shorts and down the soft flesh of your legs.  
On your way back home (desperate to draw the curtains, down a few sleeping pills from your stash, and pass out until the heat of the day is done," you pass by the houses of the newcomers. Several of them are out on the front porch making conversation, including the one who's been catching your eye. You've conversed with him only a few times, that being a strong word, considering how little he speaks. In fact, each conversation with him has become less verbal, more awkward silence, lip bites, inability to make eye contact.  
Eye contact. That's what you make with Daryl when you pass them. You take in all his rugged good looks and damn near animalistic way of standing, moving. His eyes meet yours, and the sheer intensity of those blue eyes forces you to look away. Still, they consumed you. Imagine the way they would watch as you strip your clothes away before him.  
Fuck. That's not sweat between your legs now. Damp panties get a little wetter as your body begins to react to an instinctual need. Those shorts are too tight now, the denim presses against the too thin undergarments rub against now sensitive folds. With each step, the fabric digs deep into your feminine area.  
The thought of Daryl's hands running along your skin follows you around the corner, to your house. You pass your housemates without a word, the trip up the stairs is torturous, each step your pants dig deeper into the folds, growing wetter all the way.  
It takes all your strength not to draw attention. Closing the bedroom door is done with shaking hands, locking it up behind you. The first thing you do upon finding privacy is pop the button on those shorts and free yourself from them. You panties are entirely soaked now; you can smell the pungent musk of lust. You fall back first onto your bed, one hand finding it's way up your shirt and under your bra, fondling squishy breasts and thumbing tender nipples.  
You picture those magnificent biceps flexing. Your fingers slip between your legs, toying with the fabric of the soiled undergarments. A moan escapes when tingles of pleasure begin deep within you. Imagine Daryl's rough voice groaning your name. Already so wet and ready, pressing two fingers into your slit is easy, and your thumb finds the clit, so you vibrate in extasy.  
Sometimes you've caught yourself watching him. The way that man's hands work when he's doing maintenance on his crossbow, the things he could do to you with those hands. And so at it's thought another shock of bliss grasps your core. You imagine Daryl standing above, watching you touch yourself. Imagine him pulling his cock free from dirty jeans, beautifully hard. He strokes himself, and it brings you another buzz of pleasure, like a taser shoved up your pussy but without the burning pain. Imagine him taking you by the thighs, positioning and finally…  
"Oh fuck!"You cry out as a wave of intense delight overtakes your body. "Mmmm… Daryl." Trying not to say his name is pointless, trying to stay silent makes you want to scream.  
It's not the same. A couple of fingers up your pussy can never compare to the sensation of a magnificent cock. The sound of the breeze rustling the curtains is nothing like the melody of a man groaning, panting your name. A blanket rubbing against your flushed skin bears no resemblance to a hot body pressing up against you.  
At this moment the only thing in the world you want more than to have an orgasm is to have Daryl releasing inside you. Feeling his seed filling you up, taking root inside you. You imagine it mingling with your insides coming with…  
"Ah, God! Daryl!" Blinding light courses through your body. Pleasure warms your entire core. It's over too quickly, leaving you gasping for breath, wanting more. Why can't you get more? Why won't he give you more than images and fantasies?  
More.

\---

Daryl slams the door shut on his little hideaway. The house in the woods just outside the walls cleared and secured. Honestly, he's not the only one in town using this place as a sexual sanctuary. More than once he's arrived to find the sheets ruffled, a few cigarette butts littered around, forgotten clothing, sometimes a crushed beer can. Don't even know how word got around about this place.  
He rolls his eyes at the sight of it today, at least he has the common decency to make the place look respectable before leaving. No reason somebody should come here looking for a happy place in the middle of this shit-hole world and find a shit-hole. Nobody has the courtesy to do the same for him. Good thing Daryl isn't bringing some lady he wants to impress. Not that he would, relationships are complicated, with everything going on that is not something he wants to be adding to the mess. Still, here he is. Daryl's found himself around more and more frequently as of late. Too often for his liking. Every time she wears those fucking shorts, the Dixon boy comes crawling out here to 'clear his mind.'  
"Don't know what's fuckin' wrong with me." He grumbles, frustrated with his uncontrollable lust. His mind is racing with thoughts of her, ass nearly hanging out of those… can you even call them pants? "Why her?!"  
He leans against an armchair opposite the fireplace. Daryl groans as his erection finally reaches the point where it's painfully confined to his jeans. Popping the button of the prison his mind can't help picturing that woman being the one reaching in and taking his throbbing member, pulling it free. At this moment all he desperately wants is to see the look on her face when it pops loose when she lays eyes on it for the first time, and every time after.  
"Hhhhnn… get a hold of yerself…" Daryl strokes slowly. "Damnit, damnit, damnit." It's not the not having her; it's the pure strength of the desire. The need for a woman he barely knows. "Fuck…fuck."  
To have her naked before him, see the same lust in her eyes that he feels in his bones, that would bring him the kind of joy that he hasn't felt in… ever. In his mind, he can see her, pulls her against himself, tries to imagine that the hand pumping his cock is her perfect pussy. He moans, guilt in his heart for not knowing the name to vocalize, feeling he doesn't deserve to imagine her calling out his own. His body is wracked by pleasure, but it's a hollow kind that makes him feel sick in his stomach.  
"Wanna fill you up." Daryl becomes a little lost in the delusion that she is riding him. Muscles are growing tense, his stomach is churning, but he needs to finish this.  
He can't help himself, his voice shakes, crying out in pleasure and self-disgust. The muscles release and his cock nearly spasms with the orgasm. In his fantasy, his release fills the woman, penetrates her womb. It's what he shamefully wants more than anything to plant his seed deep inside her.  
But the reality is it is wasted. Hot, white, an arc spouting from the tip, shooting into the cold fireplace.  
Daryl shudders, shamed, wondering why he has to be this way. It's not right, the things he wants to do to her. Not in this world, especially not for him. Perhaps for another man, a good one like Rick or Glenn. But not for him, not with a woman he can't even put a name to. One who wouldn't even look at him twice.


End file.
